The Buzzards and the Bees
by Aiselne Phoenix Nocturnus
Summary: Leave it to Ash to jump to crazy conclusions. But where the heck did he get the idea that Misty might be dying, and what will Ash do for her in her alleged final days? Pokeshippy. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Buzzards and the Bees**_

**SUMMARY**: Leave it to Ash to jump to crazy conclusions. But where the heck did he get the idea that Misty might be dying, and what will Ash do for her in her alleged final day(s)?

**GENRE**: Drama/Humor  
**RATED**: PG-13 / T  
**NOTABLE CONTENT**: Non-Explicit Sexual/Mature Themes & Brief Language  
**PAIRING(S)**: (Slight) Ash/Misty (Pokeshipping)

**COPYRIGHT NOTE**: I don't own _Pokemon / Pocket Monsters  
_**STORY TAKES PLACE IN**: Anytime during Ash and co.'s old Kanto adventures

**COMMENTS**: Yup, I'm at it again, folks, delightfully tormenting the living daylights out of the delectably naïve Ash Ketchum. I can hardly believe that it's been over a year since I last published a multi-chaptered Pokemon fanfic (not counting one-shots). This story won't be super-long (it will be a miniseries), but it's definitely longer than a one-shot! It feels great to be back, writing another silly yet sentimental slice of Ash-torture with a few Pokeshippy hints along the way.

Friendly warning: Without spoiling the story, I want readers to be aware that this fanfic broaches some potentially sensitive themes. Nothing is explicit, I assure you, but this fic will probably be best appreciated by young adults and older.

I hope you enjoy this story! :)

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**The Buzzards and the Bees**

_Aiselne Phoenix_

**Chapter 1**

"Why do I always have to do the dirty work?" Ash whined, dumping a pile of multicolored clothes next to him. After a week of campouts in a humid forest, the young travelers' dirty, sweaty clothes amounted to a hefty load of laundry. The large stack was almost top-heavy enough to topple onto little Pikachu, who was as equally unenthusiastic about laundry duty as Ash.

The trainer and his Pokemon situated themselves at the edge of a clear stream. A short distance away was camp where Misty and Brock busied themselves with their own morning chores. From there, a gentle breeze tauntingly carried the delectable aroma of Brock's sizzling bacon and eggs. Naturally, Ash had more imperative things on his mind than laundry. Food aside, the boy was eager to practice for his upcoming gym battle. He could not allow the distance between him and Gary to get any wider than it already was. Cleaning laundry would only waste more time!

But as anxious and frustrated as he felt, Ash knew it was unfair to burden Brock with all the chores. Everybody had to do his or her share, right? Thus, the sooner Ash stopped complaining, the sooner he finished the laundry, the sooner he could fill his grumbling stomach and then train to his heart's content. At least Pikachu was willing to give him a hand, carrying a small tote bag with Brock's portable-sized bottles of fabric cleaners.

_Besides_… Ash thought as he submerged one of his black T-shirts into the stream's cool water. After thanking Pikachu for handing him a bottle of detergent, Ash got to work on scrubbing. _If I DON'T do the laundry, Misty will be on my back about it for sure. She's been really grouchy all week_. Not that Misty being grouchy was anything out of the ordinary. Misty could be sweet, but there was no denying the fact that the redhead harbored a temper capable of rivaling a Gyarados' Dragon Rage. And lately, Misty had turned to her dark side.

_I'd like to know what crawled up her butt and died_, grunted Ash, wringing out his shirt as though he wanted to wring Misty's neck. It was no exaggeration to say that Misty had been on Ash's back about _everything _this week.

_"Ash Ketchum! Would it kill you to check the map once in a while? No wonder we're lost!"_

_"Ash Ketchum! How many times do I have to tell you to go fetch firewood?"_

_"Ash Ketchum! You forgot the bucket of water AGAIN?!"_

_"Ash Ketchum! Slow down, will ya?!"_

_"Ash Ketchum! Hurry up already!"_

_"So Ash…how's my new BIKE coming along, huh?!"_

_"Ash Ketchum! Comb your hair! Tangela are neater than you!"_

_"Ash Ketchum! Quit chewing your food like a friggen Ponyta!"_

_"Ash Ketchum! Can you just shut your damn mouth for two seconds?!"_

_"Ash Ketchum!"_

Seriously, _what_ was Misty's problem lately?! Sure, the humidity had gotten on everybody's nerves this week, but Misty's mood was plain exasperating. By now, even Brock was tired of her chronic complaining. Misty tended to be hard on Ash, but this week was ridiculous. More disturbing was how Ash was not the only person to get the brunt of Misty's wrath. Brock got his share of verbal attacks. Misty's mood had even scared off Team Rocket the other night when the thieves attempted another ill-fated Pikachu-poach. The only exception to Misty's wrath was Togepi, but even the baby Pokemon was smart enough to know that Mommy was acting bizarre. Ash, too, knew something weird was going on with his female companion. Yes, Misty could be a bitch, but even Ash knew she was not _that _much of a bitch.

Nevertheless, after a week of enduring Misty's abuse, Ash was smarting. His own temper did not help matters, either. Half of Ash wanted to sit down with Misty and amiably ask what was bothering her. He _was_ concerned. However, the other less rational half of Ash's brain wanted to launch a counterattack, storm back to camp and give Misty a vociferous taste of her own medicine. He _was_ pissed. But what would that accomplish? The duo had already fought more than enough times this week, and even Ash had grown tired of it all. The most sensible solution was to wait for Hurricane Misty to blow over and then confront her in a calm manner.

Until then, there was laundry to be done. Ash spent the next ten minutes suffering in silence, mechanically soaking, scrubbing, wringing, folding, and stacking wet clothing. The extent of any conversation he had with Pikachu was a "Thanks, buddy" each time the Electric Type offered its meager assistance. Although laundry duty was not the highlight of any ten-year-old's life, Ash did feel a sense of accomplishment as he watched the pile of smelly clothes shrink. At their current pace, Ash and Pikachu estimated that their chore would probably be done within another ten to fifteen minutes. _Scrub! Scrub!_

The light at the end of the tunnel coerced Ash to work a little faster. _Scrub, scrub, scrub!_ His brisk, thoughtless pacing made the job go quicker, but it also prevented the boy from actually paying attention to what he was doing. Then again, how much concentration was required to wash laundry? _Scrub, scrub, scrub! Scrub!_

"Pikapi!"

Ash blinked upon Pikachu's perk, stopping himself from absentmindedly lathering up his current article of clothing in a huge cloud of white foam. Sweatdropping, Ash chuckled to himself upon noticing how his overzealous scrub-scrub-scrubbing had caused there to be more foam than there was clothing to be cleaned. The sudsy monster spilled onto Ash's lap and threatened to spread towards the already-cleaned pile of laundry. Not wanting to redo the job, Ash dunked his cloud of lather into the stream, getting half of himself wet in the process.

He could imagine Brock and especially Misty's strange looks upon Ash's soggy return to camp. Misty would probably say something snide like, "Ash, although my nose thanks you profusely for finally taking a bath, my laundry better damn well be clean!" Just thinking about the redhead made Ash slam a juvenile fist into the water, stupidly splashing himself in the process. Pikachu's brown eyes rolled as Ash washed off the remains of his mess, letting the foam sail downstream like tiny icebergs.

With the cloud of soap gone, Ash finally took note of the piece of clothing he had been unconsciously lathering. And frankly, he wished he never noticed in the first place. Unveiled in his hands was a small, thin piece of clothing no larger than a handkerchief. At first glance, Ash thought it _was_ a handkerchief folded into a narrow triangle, until the boy noticed the so-called handkerchief had three openings, the largest hole outlined with an elastic waistband trademarked _Fruit of the Gloom_. Ash knew the brand because Delia stuffed half of his backpack with the company's cotton underwear.

Except…the pair of underwear currently in Ash's hands did not belong to him. And unless his eldest friend was hiding something, Ash was pretty certain that the pair did not belong to Brock, either. Which meant the panties belonged to…

A deep blush and cold sweat overcame the already-damp kid. Now, Ash Ketchum might not have been the quickest or most observant of people. However, he was smart enough to know _what_ he was holding in his hands. He knew what boy's underwear looked like, and the pair in his hands was different, although Ash did not want to ponder the differences too deeply. Above all, the telltale difference was the undergarment's printed design.

Countless dewy-eyed, dime-sized Jigglypuffs winked cutely up at Ash's dumbfounded face. The pink pattern covered the panties' entirety, each Jigglypuff teasing Ash with a coy smile. Ordinarily, seeing a Jigglypuff would send Ash and his friends running in the opposite direction, lest they fell prey to Lullaby (and Jigglypuff's magic marker). Frankly, Jigglypuff panties had a similar effect on Ash; he felt a strong urge to run for his life. If Misty ever, _ever_ found out…

…Then again, no matter how frightening Misty could be, it was a little difficult for Ash to fear her when he knew she wore Jigglypuff underpants. "Misty the Gyarados" had suddenly been demoted to "Misty and Jigglypuff," and the latter was anything but terrifying. Delia used to tell Ash that if he became anxious of a crowd or scared of a bully, he should envision the people in their underwear. No longer was he afraid. In fact, instead of running, Ash felt a strong urge to burst out laughing!

"Getta' load of this, Pikachu!" Ash childishly snorted, showcasing Misty's pink panties to his less-amused partner. "Look! Misty acts tough, but she's all bark and no bite! I'm supposed to be afraid of a girl who wears cutey, pinky underwear?! Haha! This is priceless blackmail!"

Pikachu just raised an eyebrow as Ash got the biggest kick out of his discovery. Ash Ketchum was nobody to talk when it came to underwear. Delia had bought her son a few pairs with particularly embarrassing designs, too. Not that Pikachu would ever blackmail its precious trainer…although the urge was tempting.

In the naïve hilarity of it all, Pikapi apparently forgot (or was too oblivious to) the fact that his hands were still groping a girl's undergarments. Frankly, the mouse was surprised that Pikachupi had bravely dumped her laundry (underwear and all) in the same pile as her male friends.

Then again, what did Misty have to fear? Brock already had his fill of the wonderful world of women's lingerie, thanks to those magazines Pikachu found while searching the teenager's backpack for Pokechow. And on the more responsible side, Brock had spent years parenting his ten younger siblings, half of whom were girls who had their own laundry to be cleaned. Misty's panties probably would not faze Brock nearly as much as Ash.

And as far as Ash was concerned…the kid almost rolled back into the lake due to his hysterics, waving Misty's underwear as though he just won Capture the Flag. He was too young, too naïve, too…well, Pikachu had a variety of adjectives to describe its master's gross immaturity. Perhaps in five, ten years Ash would think very differently about what women hid under their clothes. Until that momentous day arrived, Misty had _nothing _to worry about.

Pikachu just sighed in exasperation. The mouse loved Ash dearly, but Pikachu wholeheartedly agreed that its trainer had oodles more growing up to do. _Pikapi...if you were just a little older then you wouldn't think that this moment was quite so funny. In fact, you'd either be drooling over those panties you're STILL holding, or you'd be absolutely horrified that you're touching something that was up against Pikachupi's–_

Before Pikachu could allow that dirty image to embed itself into its brain, the mouse blinked, noticing something attracting its eyes. Pikachu was unsure "what" caught its attention at first, until "it" flashed again and again like a tiny red light. The electric mouse was baffled, but also noticed how that redness attracted Pikachu's eyes whenever Pikapi waved the Jigglypuff underpants.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu squeaked again, promptly ending Ash's idiocy. The boy regained himself quickly, wiping away the laughter-induced tears from his eyes and catching his breath. Pulling himself up from the ground, Ash dusted himself off before approaching his suddenly-concerned Pokemon.

"What's up, Pikachu?" he asked, noticing the Pokemon was gawking at Misty's Jigglypuff-printed blackmail. Still not grasping the full magnitude of the situation, Ash simply blinked. "And, uh, why are you staring at Misty's underwear?"

Pikachu nearly Thundershocked its panty-brandishing master, but instead chose not to acknowledge such a brainless, pot-calling-the-kettle-black comment. Taking the matter more seriously than Ash ever could, Pikachu pointed a firm yellow finger at Misty's undergarments. "Chu! Chu!"

At first, Ash figured Pikachu was pointing and about to laugh at Misty's expense, just as Ash had done a moment ago. However, the Electric Type's face was devoid of any sliver of humor. If Ash had not known better, he would have sworn he saw Pikachu's pointer finger tremble. Following Pikachu's point, Ash's eyes fell back upon Misty's funny underwear.

Only then did the matter stop being funny.

The cold sweat Ash felt earlier had returned twofold. As before, Ash took note of the teeny Jigglypuffs smiling and winking at him. The girly Pokemon pattern would serve as Ash's ultimate revenge against Misty's outrageous moaning and groaning of the past week. He could hardly wait to declare war alongside his newfound army of pink Jigglypuffs!

Except…not all of those Jigglypuffs were pink. Some of them were…red.

_B-blood red._

As if he touched fire, Ash instantly let go of the wet undergarment, letting it fall to the ground between him and the equally skittish Pikachu. Some brown dirt soiled the Jigglypuffs, but the subtle redness remained on Misty's panties.

"...P-Pikachu...?" Ash stammered, swallowing nervously as all traces of humor fled like the soapsuds downstream. The boy's heart raced as he pointed a shaky finger down at the used-to-be-but-no-longer-are-funny panties, specifically at an area where the underpants featured most of the mysterious red stain. "...I-is...that...b-_blood_?!"

It certainly looked like blood, albeit too dark a crimson to be fresh blood. From where Pikachu stood, the scent was definitely reminiscent of blood (although Pikachu was not about to stick its nose up close and personally into Misty's underwear). The red stain was dark and ran along the middle portion of the panties. It was not a huge stain, more of a thin streak, but there was no denying that the stain had been blood.

Instead of imagining a hundred and one scenarios of how to blackmail Misty, Ash's brain immediately became overloaded with a thousand and one scenarios as to why blood, of all things, stained Misty's underpants. Like any potty-training child, Ash had his share of accidents when he was little. But not one of his bathroom accidents resulted in blood! True, Ash endured plenty of other blood-shedding injuries: bloody nose, scraped knees and elbows...the list was endless for an accident-prone kid like him. Thanks to Ash's track record he was not even squeamish around blood anymore.

But as Ho-Oh as his witness, Ash never, ever saw blood come from _that_ location. Ash was smart enough to put two and two together: if blood was on Misty's underwear, that meant the blood had come from her– the anatomy lesson was overridden by Ash's grave fear for Misty's wellbeing. Against his tolerance level, Ash suddenly felt dizzy as his eyes locked onto Misty's bloodied panties. His head spun as the trainer desperately tried to fathom what was wrong with Misty. Naturally, if she was bleeding, then something was bound to be wrong with her, right?

_Is she sick?! _That was the first idea that popped into Ash's mind. He never heard of an illness where someone bled..._there_, but then again, he was no doctor. Ash did know that some injuries could cause internal bleeding, but Ash figured he and Brock would have noticed if Misty sustained any grave injuries lately. The most logical explanation was illness.

_Oh God, what if Misty's REALLY sick, like with one of those rare diseases?_ Without realizing it, Ash's hands began clawing at his hair. He almost yanked off his hat as his imagination's gears spun out of control. Ash's brown eyes were as wide as saucers and he nearly hyperventilated as more and more worst-case scenarios flooded his brain. _What if she can't be cured?! What if she's sick with something that doctor's have never heard about?! Oh God. Oh my God!_

"Pikapi!" Pikachu cried out, trying in vain to calm its panicking master. This morning had undoubtedly been odd. A few minutes ago, Ash was laughing hysterically. Now he was acting hysterical again, but this time like he was undergoing a panic attack. The poor boy shook uncontrollably and a sweated profusely. Although Pikachu did not understand the reasons behind Misty's bloody underwear, either, the mouse wanted to remain calm. There was not enough evidence to prove whether or not this situation was as dire as Ash's overactive imagination blew out of proportion.

Pikachupi meant the world to Pikachu. But the mouse also knew that if something were seriously wrong with Misty, she would have already confided in Ash and Brock. No amount of arguing could change the fact that they were best friends. So, was it possible that this panty fiasco was not a big deal after all? For one thing, the bloodstain on Misty's panties was quite miniscule. If there were blood _everywhere_ then Pikachu would certainly sound the alarms. A small streak of blood did not necessarily warrant a 911 call…did it?

Ash, on the other hand, vehemently cursed himself for not having a cell phone to dial 911. Now it all made sense; no wonder Misty had been in such a crappy mood lately! She was sick and miserable and taking it out on her friends, but who could blame her? Ash doubted he would be in a chipper mood if he underwent her suffering. Then again, who the hell was he to say he understood what Misty was going through?! Clumsy Ash had his share of minor hospital visits in the past, but never anything _this_ serious!

As the minutes ticked, worse and worse scenarios manifested in his mind: Ash and Brock rushing Misty to a hospital. Ash and Brock waking up one morning to find Misty unconscious. Ash and Brock being unable to find their way out of this damned forest so they could get Misty to a hospital. Ash and Brock waking up one morning to find vultures circling Misty's sleeping bag… No matter how often he and Misty argued, Ash never wished anything like _this_ to befall her!

Misty was the first friend Ash ever made on his Pokemon journey. Okay, she had been (and still was) obnoxious about her electrocuted bicycle. And yes, Misty was tough on Ash when it came to his skills (or lack thereof) as a novice Pokemon trainer. Many times had Ash ignored her advice, thinking she was just bossing him around. But Ash would be lying if he said that Misty did not play an imperative role in helping Ash reach his goals. Ash could not begin to imagine how different his Pokemon journey would be if Misty never fished him out of that river.

Ash did not want to imagine his life without Misty, period. She was an irreplaceable piece of him. If she died…

"Pikapi…" Pikachu chewed its lower lip as it watched its scared young trainer rub the tears spilling from his eyes. The Electric Pokemon did not know what to make of the situation itself. Pikachu still could not shake the feeling that there was nothing to worry about. Misty would not hide a terminal illness from her best friends, would she? The redheaded girl was never shy about voicing her opinions. If there was something to say, Misty said it! But even Pikachu felt spooked as it peered at the bloodied panties still lying by the mouse's feet. Bloodshed of any degree was rarely a good thing. Was it possible that Pikachu's instincts were off, and that matters were indeed as serious as Ash imagined? And if so, what could possibly be done?

Ash knew exactly what plan of action he would take. First and foremost, he had to pull himself together and stop crying. He would have plenty of time to mourn Misty after she was gone…not that Ash wished for the end to happen any time soon. Who knew how much time Misty had left? Did Brock even know?! What about their Pokemon? Instead of wallowing in grief, Ash knew he and his friends should be enjoying their last times together. That, and find some way to help! If there were any way to save Misty, Ash would not hesitate. And in the event he was too late to save her, then Ash wanted Misty to be comfortable and happy in her final days. He owed Misty so much more, of course, but Ash at least wanted to do that for the girl who meant so much to him.

It was harder to compose himself than Ash thought, but he managed to suck in his emotions and wipe away the remaining fluids from his eyes and nose. He had to return to camp and find Misty and Brock as soon as possible. Trivialities like laundry and chores became unimportant. He hastily gathered the remainder of the clothes into his arms, piling the clean, wet, and dirty clothes all in one heap. Ash did not care if Misty blasted him for doing a half-assed job on the laundry. She could yell at Ash all she wanted if it made her feel better.

The infamous Jigglypuff panties were the last to be collected. Not ten minutes ago, Misty's underwear made Ash laugh his head off, and now they threatened to make him bawl his eyes out. But Ash had to stay strong for Misty. He had so stay strong for all of his friends, human and Pokemon alike, who were sure to be devastated when they heard the bad news.

"Let's go, Pikachu." Ash's voice held none of its usual spunk. He sounded miserable, almost enough to provoke tears in Pikachu's own eyes. But not knowing what else to do, Pikachu recollected the detergent bottles and obediently followed Pikapi home. The mouse still was not bought on the idea that Misty was going to kick the bucket anytime soon. But one way or another, Pikachu knew that a return to camp would be for the best. Then everyone would find out once and for all what was wrong with Misty, if there was anything wrong in the first place. With all its heart, Pikachu prayed that everything would turn out okay.

Ash hoped so, too. With all his heart.

**To Be Continued…**

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**A/N**: For the record, in no way was this story written to poke fun at girls (or guys, either). I'm a girl myself, after all. ;) So I hope readers out there won't be angry with me for broaching sensitive material. Offense was never my intention when writing this fanfic.

So, what did you think about the first chapter? Like I said, this story will be short, but hopefully it will still be a fun little experience. Ch.2 should be posted sometime next week. Feel free to post a comment in the meantime. Reviews help me out. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**COPYRIGHT NOTE**: I don't own _Pokemon / Pocket Monsters_, or _The Twilight Zone_

**COMMENTS**: Welcome back, everyone! Thank you very much for warmly welcoming me back into the fandom. I've had a lot of fun writing this short story, and I can only hope that readers are enjoying it just as much. :) As promised, here comes Ch.2!

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**The Buzzards and the Bees**

_Aiselne Phoenix_

**Chapter 2**

Misty was a perfect example of the classic adage, "we don't know what we have until its gone." And boy, bathrooms were so easy to take for granted…until she found herself stuck in the woods with nothing but pointy shrubs as toilets.

As a traveling Pokemon trainer, Misty had accustomed herself to going without luxuries. Her prissy sisters could hog a bathroom for hours on end, whereas Misty prided herself in being able to rough it. Under any other circumstance Misty could easily handle a week in a forest. She could handle a week's worth of humidity in that forest, too. Times like these were just another challenge in the life of a traveler. No bed? No TV? No computer? No microwave? No shower? No smartphone? No problem!

Sadly, Misty's bravado was no match for Mother Nature. No bathroom? Er…well, yes, that was a problem for a girl entering adolescence. Perhaps if Misty was a boy she would not have any difficulties this week, but like it or not she was a girl. There was no doubt about that. Honestly, Misty had no clue how women of the Stone Age handled themselves. She was not interested in finding out, either. Perhaps modern luxuries truly spoiled people these days, but Misty certainly was not about to suffer in silence. The bottom line was that Misty lived in an era where bathrooms existed, and she hated being deprived of one when she needed it most.

The redhead knew she had been taking out her anger on Ash and Brock. It was nobody's fault that this particular time of the month happened to be when the kids got lost in some thick, forest-covered mountain range. It was not necessarily Misty's fault that she was feeling this way, either, but she was so frustrated that she hated everything at the moment. She hated being a girl, and she especially hated being stuck in these God-forsaken woods! Misty felt like the fates were against her, and she needed to vent, of which everybody along her path got the worst end. This week had not been fair to anybody.

Nevertheless, all Misty could do was grin and bear it. This problem of hers would not go away until she reached her fifties, so Misty had better strap in for the long haul. If she were lucky, this time next month Misty and her friends would be in closer proximity to a Pokemon Center. How much farther _was_ it to the next town, anyway?!

With that, Misty stomped out of the tent, leaving the still-snoozing Togepi on her bubble-printed sleeping bag. Upon opening her tent's flaps, the girl was instantly welcomed with a blast of humid air carrying the scent of Brock's sizzling breakfast. As hungry as she felt, Misty had more pressing matters to discuss with the spiky-haired cook.

"Brock, any chance of us reaching a town in the near future?" she asked, her voice a combination of irritation, sarcasm, and genuine concern. Time of the month or not, after a week of being stuck in this stinking forest, Misty wanted out. "I can't take much more of this place."

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Brock sighed in agreement. "I hear ya, Misty, believe me. But it doesn't matter how many times I check the map; this forest isn't going to magically shrink or have some yellow brick road suddenly show us the way outta' here. We're in the boonies right now, and I remember telling you and Ash beforehand that it was going to be a long trek until we reached the next town." The whole reason he gave them that warning was to prevent Misty and Ash's inevitable whines. Brock should have known the hotheaded kids' silence would never last.

"But for whatever it's worth, we're making considerable progress through the forest." At this point, Brock was willing to accept any pint of optimistic news. Instead of complaining about everything, why not look on the bright side? Misty's weeklong gripe-fest had only made matters more miserable than they already were. "The light's at the end of the tunnel, Myst, trust me. In another day or two we'll see civilization again."

Brock's hopefulness went on deaf ears. _Another day or two?!_ There mere thought of spending another hour in this sticky forest made Misty want to scream. Grinding the dirt under her red sneaker, Misty sulked. "Terrific. I suppose it'd be asking too much to suggest we could hustle out of here by tonight?"

He hated to be the bearer of bad news but Brock highly doubted his troop could reach town by this evening. Brock's biggest concern was the humidity. The trio probably would have exited the woods sooner had the high temperatures not slowed them down. However, this was not the type of weather to be hustling anywhere, unless they wanted heatstrokes. Was Brock the only member of this group who took health into consideration?

"We've been traveling at a steady pace already, Misty," or as steady as the kids could travel in high temperatures. Brock was not stupid enough to test his body's limits in this heat. "But this weather isn't anything to take lightly. I'd prefer if we pace ourselves accordingly and reach town tomorrow, instead of reaching town by tonight and keeling over at the city's entrance." Taking an authoritative, big brother stance, Brock knew that Misty had no way of arguing with his wisdom. "Come' on, Misty, one more night or two in here won't kill us. We've lasted this long."

The red-haired girl begged to differ, but Misty knew Brock spoke the truth. Her body already felt like crap, and she definitely did not want to compromise her health any further. A defeated Misty was forest-bound for at least another twenty-four hours. That did not mean she had to relish it, though.

Grunting softly, Misty absently kicked a small clump of dirt from under her shoe. "Forget it," she backed down, much to Brock's relief. However, her defeat did not stop Misty from voicing her distaste of the situation. "After all, what's another day or two in this hellhole?"

Brock smirked, expecting her to say something along those lines. Not that he could blame Misty. "Hey, I'm not having a picnic out in this humidity, either, but it could be worse. It hasn't rained all week, the nights have been refreshing, and the mountain scenery is just breath-taking…"

"Oh yes, Brock. _Fabulous_!" Misty chimed, sarcastically waving her hands for effect. "Our clothes are disgusting, the heat is stifling, the forest is full of bugs, and the bathrooms are comprised of bushes and zero privacy." Right now, Misty was the last person on earth who wanted to hear about one hundred reasons to look on the bright side. She did appreciate Brock's efforts in trying to brighten her spirits, but a clean Pokemon Center bathroom was so, _so_ much more appealing at the moment. "But you're absolutely right, Brock, this forest is just breath-taking! Anymore breath-taking and I might pass out. This pigsty might be a five-star resort for men, but girls need better accommodations."

Rolling his squinty eyes, Brock just shook his head. He had learned to take Misty's chronic complaining with a grain of salt. "I'd kill for a cold shower, myself, but we're just gonna' have to make do, Misty. Going without luxuries for a week isn't that bad." This certainly was not the first instance when the trainer trio spent an extended period of time in an inconvenient locale. "How bout' this? Once we reach town I'll treat you guys to dinner at a nice place with free refills and air conditioning."

"I'll hold you to that." Misty narrowed her aquamarine eyes in a playful manner. Though Brock made an irrefutable offer, Misty would have been just as happy to be treated to a bathroom. Or to be treated to a drug store, for that matter. It figures that Aunt Flo made an early visit this month, too soon for Misty to stock up on feminine necessities. She ran out of pads two days ago, not to mention that she needed to buy fresh underpants.

_Urgh_, Misty groaned to herself_. Being a girl SUCKS!_

After exchanging grins with her eldest friend, Misty sat herself down on the rock beside Brock's campfire. She wished she had a pillow to cushion her butt. Every part of her body ached. Adding to Misty's discomfort was the heat of the campfire, hiking up the high temperature a few extra degrees. If Brock's breakfast did not smell and look so darn good Misty would have left him to his own devices.

She did not intend to act so mean to her friends this week. But between the heat and her, um, condition, Misty's limited patience ran thinner. She really was fortunate to have such dear friends who could tolerate her fiery personality. Before her Pokemon journey, Misty's other childhood friends kept their distance and often took her attitude to heart. Brock and Ash were saints.

But Brock and Ash were _boys_, too. Misty could tell them almost anything, but she had absolutely no intention of explaining "girl stuff." It was none of their business anyway, and it was Misty's choice whether or not she wanted to broadcast her bodily issues to her friends. Her older sisters were never shy about announcing their cycles (often used as excuses so they would not have to work around the Cerulean Gym), but Misty had more dignity.

_Besides, shouldn't guys already know about this stuff?_ Misty was 99% positive that Brock knew all about growing-up matters. He was fifteen, after all, and he had raised ten younger siblings all by himself! Plus, Brock's backpack had a secret stash of non-Pokemon "breeding magazines" that he swore nobody knew about. Oh yes, Brock knew all about growing up…and then some.

_Ash, on the other hand_…

Well, Misty knew it was probably a stretch to expect Ash to know "everything" about these mature topics. But even Ash was bound to know the basics, right? There were minimum educational requirements for ten-year-olds to receive a Pokemon training license. Among elementary mathematics, reading, and so forth, kids also had to pass a basic sex-ed course. Pre-adolescent Pokemon trainers needed to know that their Pokemon would not be the only ones to undergo bodily evolutions. It was the Pokemon League's responsibility not to release pubescent kids out into the world without them knowing what the birds and the bees do (and how they do it _safely_, too). So no matter how clueless Ash might behave, Misty was positive that he knew the minimal necessities.

It was a 50/50 gamble whether or not Ash Ketchum knew a period was not necessarily punctuation. But mark her words; Misty was not about to teach her youngest male friend about how a girl becomes a woman. Knowing Ash's mentality, he would either laugh immaturely or freak the hell out.

Speaking of the black-haired devil, Misty and Brock heard rustling from behind them as Ash and Pikachu finally emerged from the overgrowth. For some reason, Pikachu retreated to Togepi's tent, as if the mouse wanted to give Ash and his human friends some privacy. Misty was too bothered by Ash's unexpected presence to worry about the Electric Type.

Nobody had kept track of how long Ash had been gone, but laundry duty was rarely finished before breakfast could be served. Either Brock's bacon and eggs were taking their sweet time in the frying pan, or Ash had speed-washed a week's worth of laundry in record time. Brock was the only person Misty knew who was industrious enough to clean at supersonic speed. Even if Ash had all of his Pokemon help wash, Misty knew that the amount of sweaty clothes the trio had accumulated this week would still warrant a lengthy chore. How the hell had Ash managed to finish so soon?

Then again, it is easy to finish a job quickly when the job is only half-done! Misty bolted up from her seat upon discovering that Ash's arms held a wide variety of clothes, each in different stages of cleaning. Some of the clothes were fresh, yes, but other articles were half-sudsy, and many were still grubby.

Placing her hands on her hips, Misty glared at the boy. "Ash Ketchum, you'd better have a good excuse for doing a half-assed laundry job." She knew Ash hated to wash laundry (Misty hated it, too), and she figured the scamp might try to weasel his way out of doing the chores. "And Team Rocket interrupting to steal Pikachu is not an excuse."

The girl expected Ash to defend himself with some lame explanation. Having already shot down the Team Rocket idea, Misty prepared for Ash's other inane mitigations. "My fingers are too wrinkled from the water," "I ran out of detergent" (_As if!_ Brock stocked enough cleaning supplies to rival PokeMart), or "I'm hungry and God forbid I have to _wait_ to eat." Waah! Waah! Waah! "I thought I saw a Moltres fly by so I ditched chores to go catch it and prove to the world that I'm ten times better than Gary Oak! Blah blah blah blah…" Misty did not even consider the slim possibility that Ash might have had a legitimate reason for not finishing the laundry. She was too irritable today and Ash was too unreliable when it came to doing anything not related to Pokemon.

But despite her expecting to hear Ash's outrageous excuses, Misty was still surprised by his response. Or lack thereof, actually. Instead of brainlessly flapping his gums, Ash just stood there uttering nothing. Considering Ash Ketchum was almost never the quiet type, Misty did not know how to interpret his silence. Awkward seconds past; neither a peep made from either child. Misty waited for Ash to make the next move, but the boy never did so. He just _stood_ there, staring at Misty as though it was his first time laying eyes on the redhead!

If she were feeling better Misty might have shown more concern. Instead, the annoyed girl folded her arms over her chest and frowned. "Grow up, Ash. A staring contest isn't gonna' get you off the hook. Now what happened with the laundry? Don't make me repeat myself again."

Misty was not fooling around; Ash knew her tone of voice. Then again, he was not fooling around either. Under normal conditions he would have defended himself in her wake, but not this time. The last thing Ash Ketchum wanted to do was argue with a person who might be on borrowed time. Misty's last memories of him should be happy, right? True, this was a very sad time in their lives, but why make this milestone any harder than it already was? No. Ash would not fight with Misty, even if bickering were the initial foundation for their relationship.

Unfortunately, the more Ash remembered his and Misty's early days, the harder it was to prevent himself from falling to pieces. He really did not want to make a scene. But how _was_ he supposed to handle this matter, anyway?

Ash remembered when his grandmother died shortly before he began his Pokemon journey. He was upset, of course, but even the nine-year-old Ash knew his grief was minute compared to Delia's pain of losing her mother. If Ash lost his own mom, he… he did not even want to think about it. Instead, the child did everything in his power to help his mom get through such a tragic time, even if all Ash could do was be a good boy and offer affectionate condolences. There were times when Ash would just wrap his arms around Delia's waist and let her sob into her son's hair.

Right now, Ash felt in dire need of a strong hug for himself. Every fiber in his body wanted to run to Misty and hold her tight, Ash's feeble attempt at preventing her from leaving him. Liquid salt persistently stung the rims of his eyes, and it was an effort to sniff without attracting anyone's suspicions. But no, Ash would not make a scene.

"_Aaaassshhh_!" Misty snarled darkly, irked by Ash's oath of silence.

Not making a scene was all well and good, but doing absolutely nothing was not helping Ash's situation, either. He knew that Misty would be pissed about his lousy laundry job, so her reaction was not surprising. What _did_ surprise Ash was how Misty was so preoccupied with chores. Surely, there were much, _much_ more imperative matters to worry about! Here Misty was with her…well, whatever her condition was, and she cared more about her stupid laundry!

Or…was that what Misty wanted?

Everyone handled pain and grief in their own way. If the situation were reversed, Ash would not want to dwell on the fact that death loomed around the corner. Instead, Ash would take full advantage of his remaining minutes: train until long after stars specked the night sky, play with his friends and Pokemon until collapsing in a big heap, eat until there was no space left in his belly, win as many more badges and tournaments as time allowed, catch the world's rarest Pokemon, find and kick Gary Oak's snotty ass… Ash Ketchum's bucket list might not have been the most awe-inspiring, but the point was that he preferred to die as happy a person as possible.

Who was to say that Misty was any different? The redhead might be temperamental, but Misty was definitely not selfish. She probably did not want to upset her friends, human and Pokemon alike, more than necessary. Misty was wise enough to know which of her friends were the most emotional. Togepi was a perfect example; the infant was bound to wail once it learned that it could not nestle in Mommy's arms for much longer. Not that Ash was one to talk when it came to controlling waterworks. Misty was bound to be keeping him in mind, too. A girl who did not like to see a boy cry; it should be the other way around, right?!

If Misty wanted to enjoy her final days, so be it. Ash could not, and would not, be selfish. How Misty chose to live was her decision. If she wanted these days to be happy, fine. If she wanted her friends to remain ignorantly happy, that was fine, too. After all, it was Misty's choice whether or not she wanted to broadcast her condition to her friends. As desperately as Ash wanted to spill the beans, he knew he had to respect Misty's wishes, especially if they were her last wishes.

And besides, Ash might be the one with a funeral if he dared announce to the world how Misty was bleeding from her– Um…no, he would not blurt that out. Ash could not even imagine himself speaking words of that caliber without him fainting mid-sentence.

"_ASH_!"

Jumping, the boy finally recollected himself before Misty took a swing at him. After all, their fighting had become a sport, and Ash knew that Misty enjoyed making him squirm once in a while. But he did not want to _completely_ piss her off, either. Only now was Ash beginning to learn how to playfully rile up Misty without triggering her Dragon Rage mode. A little too late, perhaps, but…

…No! He would not think depressing thoughts! If it meant making Misty happy then Ash would smile, no matter how much it hurt.

"Oh, uh…sorry," stammered the boy, surprised at how choked his voice sounded. No! He would not fall apart. Swallowing his throat clear, Ash then pasted on a weak but acceptable smile. With so much on his mind, Ash almost forgot to concoct an excuse for his lackluster laundry job. "I just…um…just felt, uh, really hungry all of a sudden." If anything, food was always a believable excuse when it came to Ash's mindset. He was pleased when Misty and Brock groaned, not surprised by such a predictable reply. At least they believed his fib. "Is it okay if I finish the laundry after breakfast? I promise!"

Indeed, Misty was not surprised by his lame excuse. But before she could once again compare Ash to a Snorlax, Brock intervened. "Well, breakfast is just about ready, anyway," he noticed as the bacon and eggs simmered to perfection. Like Misty, Brock was unimpressed by Ash's negligence. But not wanting another argument to ensue, the teenager grabbed a dish and began serving. "We might as well eat while the food's hot."

Misty frowned. "I guess…" she trailed, but not about to claim defeat until she sternly reminded Ash, "But don't even try to 'forget' about finishing the laundry after breakfast. You promised to finish it and you can bet that I'll hold you to that promise, Ash Ketchum."

_Fair enough_, Ash thought after he dumped the laundry pile aside and proceeded to the campfire. As always, Brock's meal smelled delicious, but for once in his life, Ash was not drooling with glee. Ordinarily, he would encourage Brock to pile an extra helping of bacon onto the boy's plate, but on this particular morning Ash accepted his portion without greed. He did not even feel overly hungry anymore, despite his lie.

Aquamarine eyes narrowed as Misty noticed Ash's uncharacteristic complacency. Ash Ketchum was a terrible liar: claiming to be hungry, and yet not devouring the food he supposedly craved. He was hiding something, probably something stupid as always. Misty had enough of her own problems; she was not interested in Ash's idiocy today.

Brock was not blind to the situation, either, but the day's humidity kept the teen's mouth shut. Even so, this morning's breakfast was anything but ordinary. Ash slowly and quietly ate his breakfast, which was more of a disturbing spectacle than watching the boy eat like an animal. But what _really_ made Brock feel like he was tossed into the Twilight Zone was when he glanced over at Misty. She was eating politely, as always, but unlike her male companions' half-cleared plates, Misty's plate was near empty. Already.

Immediately, the redhead felt conscientious when she noticed Brock's squinty yet inquiring eyes on her. Granted, no girl relished an audience while she ate, and Misty felt extra self-conscious today of all days. Although, that did not stop her stomach from getting what it wanted. Why _was_ she so hungry today, anyway?

Warmth assaulted Misty's cheeks as her eyes scanned Brock and Ash's dishes. It was ten times more embarrassing for the girl to finish her meal before Ash Ketchum even reached the halfway mark. And worse, now Ash's brown eyes were staring at Misty just as Brock was before. If either boy dared to make some snide remark, Misty swore to God, she would…

"Would ya like the rest of my bacon, Misty?"

Misty blinked, her eyes seeing what her brain could not believe. Ash sat besides her, rotating the plate on his lap so the side of bacon was closest to Misty. He was _offering_ his food – his bacon – his _meat_ – to her? 1.) Misty never understood the age-old love affair between guys and meats. 2.) When had hell frozen over?! True, Ash's gesture was very thoughtful and (dare Misty say?) gentlemanlike. However, the gesture was also so outrageously out of character for Ash Ketchum that Misty was certain her jaw hit the ground.

It was Brock who spoke Misty's mind. "Who are you and what have you done with Ash?"

At least Ash was fully aware of how weirdly he was behaving, for once. For the first time since he unearthed Misty's awful secret, Ash smiled and giggled boyishly. It was good that he and his friends could still laugh during a time like this. "Heh, it's me, Brock. Really," the raven-haired kid reassured with a wink, though his eyes were still focused on the agape Misty. "And I'm serious, Myst."

Neither Misty nor Brock believed his story. "What happened to 'I'm-really-hungry-all-of-a-sudden-so-I-ditched-laundry-duty'?" snorted the girl, watching Ash sweatdrop. Oh yes, Ash was hiding something. There was no doubt anymore.

Realizing that he was treading thin ice, Ash's mind once again scrambled up a more convincing excuse. "Well, yeah…I know I kinda' messed up the laundry, and I feel bad about that. So…how bout' a peace offering?" With that, Ash lifted his plate a little closer to Misty; the three strips of bacon were hers for the taking. No strings attached.

Brock ignored how he was conveniently exempt from Ash's so-called peace offering. Based on past experiences, Brock half-expected Ash to tear away his plate the moment Misty's fingers went for his bacon: "Gotcha!" or "Haha! I can't believe you fell for that trick, Misty! Ha! Ha! Don't ever call me stupid again!" and et cetera. Considering how sourly Misty had been behaving lately, subjecting Ash and Brock to her overblown verbal abuse, Ash's retaliation was probable, if not inevitable.

However, Ash innocently offering his meal to Misty was definitely not the expected payback. It had to be a prank, right? But food poisoning was out of the question, and spitting in Misty's food had seemed a bit too extreme for Ash, too. Thinking about it more deeply, Brock knew that Ash was not the type to mess around with food whatsoever. However, the kid was not the type to relinquish food so easily, either. This puzzle's pieces simply did not fit. Was Ash really trying to pull something?

Admittedly, Ash felt a little insulted by his friend's flabbergasted faces. Sheesh, was his generosity _that_ shocking? Aside how this morning's revelation had kyboshed his appetite, Ash was not enough of a glutton to begrudge food to somebody who really wanted it…especially if that person was one of his best friends. If Misty was hungry then she should be allowed to eat whatever she liked – that's exactly what Ash would do if he knew he was dying! Besides, there was no point in wasting Ash's meal if he was not going to eat it.

Above all, Ash wanted to be nice to Misty…even if he knew his benevolence was overdue and probably too late. He kicked himself, realizing he should have _always_ been nice to Misty since Day 1. Why was it that Ash needed a death sentence to open his eyes and savor his friendship? Perhaps it was true: "we don't know what we have until it's gone," or "almost gone." But unable to go back in time, Ash could only do his best in the present. He knew his friends were suspicious, but he no longer cared. Ash knew that he was doing the right thing.

"Go ahead, Misty," egged Ash, offering his dish like a waiter. "Better eat it before it gets cold."

Misty did not know what to think. Part of her was flattered by Ash's newfound manners, while the other part of her was on full-alert. This would not be the first time that Ash tried to bamboozle her, although it was the first time he acted so genuinely chivalrous.

And then there was another, deeper part of Misty that became concerned. "Ash, is everything okay?" she asked, softening her voice without losing its edge completely. In the event that Ash was planning to fool her, Misty did not want to give him an inch. "You've been acting weird. Since when do you not clean your plate? And since when do you offer that plate to me?!"

"Yeah, man," Brock added, feeling his own worry manifest. His top anxiety was the forest's heat; with a hyperactive kid like Ash, it would not be difficult for the heat to do damage. And Brock knew that when Ash Ketchum was not hungry, something was wrong. "If you're not feeling well, just say so. You don't have to make up excuses or anything."

True, Ash was not feeling like himself, but his health was not the culprit. Turning to Brock, the younger boy felt a strong urge to tell him about Misty. But no, Ash would not make a scene…even though he had already made a small one. Misty obviously did not want her friends to know, otherwise she would have told them already. Ash would not be the one to break the news, even though his bottled-up grief might make him explode. Never before had Ash felt so confused, sad, and scared all at once.

Alas, the smaller trainer's emotional brown eyes had betrayed him, and Brock felt his heart squeeze for reasons that the teen did not yet know.

Equally at a loss, Misty sighed before giving in. She was not nearly as patient as Brock. Whatever was wrong with Ash, she figured it could wait until after breakfast. But to Misty's surprise, Ash's oddness had made her feel more uncomfortable than before. No longer did she care about food; now she was more worried about the idiot Ash! Contrary to her stubborn pride, Misty did care about that damn brat. Why? Misty doubted she would ever know.

"Forget it. I'm full, anyway. But thanks for the offer, Ash." As strange as Ash's behavior seemed, Misty would be lying if she said she did not appreciate his kind gesture. Ash was ditsy, yes, but he could also be a sweetheart when he wanted to be. The redhead was just not accustomed to Ash's sweetness being directed at _her_. Not that it was so bad. Even if it were momentary, the boy had still succeeded in easing Misty's crampy-crappy mood and warming her spirits. Could it be possible that Ash was growing up, after all? Might he actually become a gentleman someday? Maybe Misty was jumping the gun, but Ash's niceness was, well, _nice!_

Ash was a tad disappointed by Misty's pass on his offer, but he respected her decision. Whatever Misty wanted, or did not want, Ash would heed. As Misty thanked and complimented Brock for another scrumptious meal, Ash watched her rise with an empty dish. Dirty plates were usually dumped into a pail of water to later be cleaned by whoever was assigned the chore. If remembered correctly, Brock's morning chore was cooking and Ash's was laundry. That meant today's dish duty belonged to…

True to his character, Ash spoke before thinking. "Hey, uh, would you like some help with the dishes, Misty?"

Misty dropped her plate into the wash-pail for reasons other than cleaning. It was Brock's turn to stare wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. Since when did Ash want to do dishes? Since when was he so nice to Misty, especially after Misty had been tormenting him and Brock all week? Though Ash's intentions were pure, the history of his mischievous nature was not displaying him in the most positive of lights. Ash was a good kid, no doubt, but it was also true that there could be too much of a good thing.

No matter how much Misty had secretly enjoyed Ash's doting, the girl believed she could tell the difference between a person who was full of benevolence, and a person who was full of crap.

So much for Misty's good mood. "Alright, Ash Ketchum. What's going on?"

Whenever Misty barked Ash always cringed, and now was no different. Why did his friends doubt his kindness? It was not as though Ash was some perpetual creep like Gary! Delia always taught her son to be the best he could be; be the best trainer he could be, and most importantly, be the best person he could be. Underneath his childhood mischievousness, Ash was a young man of morals. His friends knew this too, did they not?

_Of course_ Misty and Brock knew that Ash was altruistic, but reality had its limits. Voluntarily sharing food – okay, Ash was capable of doing that good deed, no matter how hungry. But offering to do _extra_ chores?! A line had to be drawn somewhere. Ash did more than his share of chores when he lived at home, but he rarely did so without first making a whiny, moaning fuss. "Aaaw, come' on, Mom! Can't I wash the dishes after I visit Professor Oak's lab? Pleeeeease?" Realistically, no ten-year-old kid enjoyed chores. And yet, here was Ash offering to help Misty with her chores. Even the boy began to realize (albeit too late) that he might have been laying on his goody-two-shoes routine a little too thick.

Thinking identically, Brock had to be honest. "Ash, don't take this the wrong way, but why're you suddenly Dolly-Domestic?" Brock always believed he was the only heterosexual guy who proudly wore that title. Not that he was upset to see Ash happily lending a hand with the chores, of course. Hell, if Ash became that interested in cleaning, Brock could make the kid his protégé! Ah, the things Brock could teach! The happy times those boys would share whilst mopping floors and dusting bookshelves! Wearing matching, fashionable aprons! Oh how cleaning was a true art form! Brock's religion! After all, cleanliness was next to godliness!

But before Brock could get his hopes up, Misty more than happily delivered a sharp reality check – to _both_ young men. She pointed a finger at Ash, no longer tolerating his too-friendly act (not matter how much Misty had enjoyed it). "I don't know what you're trying to pull, Ash, but your bull won't work anymore." Although, she kicked herself for using the word "anymore" – insinuating that Ash's bull _had_ worked at one point – but the boy was too dimwitted to read into Misty's vocabulary. She just hoped that Brock had not noticed. Not wanting her blush to overtake her stern face, Misty raised the same index finger upward in a matter-of-factly manner. "The Ash I know would rather ditch chores to go Pokemon training. And need I remind you that there's already an unfinished pile of laundry with your name on it? Now what gives?!"

"Nu-nothing," Ash poorly reassured, scrambling to devise a more believable reason. "I, uh…ya know, I just like to spend time with you. What's weird about that?" Sure, nothing weird at all. So why did Ash and Misty immediately blush on cue? The girl might be dying, but the only grave Ash was digging was his own. He had to change the subject! Quickly!

And yet, though Ash knew that Misty had every right to be suspicious, he honestly had the best of intentions. How could his friends not realize that? Then again, Misty and Brock were not aware of the disturbing discovery Ash made during laundry washing. Perhaps he _should_ tell them the truth, but Ash feared embarrassing (not to mention pissing-off) Misty.

Unfortunately, the more Ash tried to please Misty, the worse matters became. Why did he have such a bad habit of messing up things? For once in his life, Ash Ketchum wanted to treat Misty like a…a…well, Ash was not exactly sure "what" to call Misty right now. He could not bring himself to dub Misty "a dying person." Technically, he did not want to treat Misty like a dying person, either. He just wanted to treat Misty like a…friend. Yes, a friend. But was that not how Ash had always treated her? All three kids had been dear friends, long before death became an issue.

Maybe that was why Ash was overdoing things. There was no need for him to be "friendly" to Misty when they were already best friends! Besides, Misty was not stuck-up like her sisters. Yes, the youngest of four siblings had enjoyed her occasional moments in the spotlight. But if Ash knew her (which he certainly did), then he knew that, deep down, Misty would not want to be treated any better than anyone else, especially in her last days.

Chewing his lower lip, Ash had to ask himself an imperative question. Why _was_ he trying so hard to make Misty happy? Was it to ease Misty's pain, or to ease his own? Ash already knew the answer.

He never realized that his head had been slowly dipping, the weight of the matter starting to take precedence. Ash's conscience was begging, practically screaming at him to spill the beans, but in doing so, the kid feared he might also spill his guts and tears in the process. He really, _really_ did not want to make a scene! For once, Ash cared about what Misty thought about him. He wanted her to remember him as a strong young man who grew from the reckless rascal she fished out of the river near Viridian City. Last impressions could be just as powerful as first impressions, and Ash did have his pride. And above all, Ash wanted to prove to Misty that she could leave him knowing that he would be okay without her. Ash was tough. Ash was mature! Ash was…

…Ash was barely managing to keep the tears in his eyes and the snot in his nose. Who the hell was he trying to kid?! Misty was still alive and Ash was already a mess!

Brock had noticed something odd about Ash's demeanor all morning. Aside the boy's unexpected eagerness to do chores, Brock could tell that something was bothering Ash. It was clear that Ash had unspoken reasons for his overt chivalrousness to Misty. But unlike the suspicious redhead, Brock was not entirely sure if Ash's ulterior motives were driven by immaturity. Ash always had a bright smile, but today's smile was different, almost as though Ash was forcing himself to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. The brunette teenager knew all about faux smiles; Brock became a master in order to keep his younger siblings happy when their parents took off. And if Brock did say so himself: Ash's act was woefully amateur.

There was another side to Ash's story. Brock knew he had to get to the bottom of the matter, before Misty's temper exploded, or before Ash's emotions exploded. How could Misty not see those tears in Ash's eyes? Even more disturbing of a thought: why was Ash about to cry in the first place? Yes, Misty had been bitchy all week and she had said some hollow yet hurtful words, but none of them warranted tears. Ash was not _that_ big of a baby. Something else was wrong with Ash, something much deeper and more significant.

Being a big brother, Brock had a sixth sense when it came to quarrelers. He always knew when it was time to separate bickering kids before damage was done. Setting aside his half-finished breakfast, Brock rose to his feet and headed towards his youngest friend. No surprise, Ash clumsily composed himself when he saw Brock's approach. The teen almost chuckled, amused at how little kids often tried to act tough in vain. And with a child as proud and stubborn as Ash, Brock was bound to have his work cut out for him.

"I've gotta' idea, Ash," started Brock, placing both palms on the shorter boy's shoulders, causing the anxious Ash to minutely jump. "Why don't I help you finish up the laundry? It'll get done quicker that way. Then you can help Misty with the dishes." Not giving Ash or Misty their chance to protest, Brock's hands immediately squeezed Ash's shoulders, latching on and coercing the child to leave with his elder. Giving no argument, Ash nodded and silently followed, he and Brock disappearing in the foliage to have a nice long talk, man-to-man.

Left behind, Misty raised an orange eyebrow. The infamous laundry pile had been brainlessly forgotten where Ash originally dumped it. _Smooth, Brock_. This morning was getting stranger and stranger. _What_ was Ash's deal? Misty was still reeling over his mind-blowing yet random confession: "I like spending time with you." Where the hell had that come from? The redhead was torn between being flabbergasted and flattered. But now was clearly not the time for Misty's fantasies to take charge of her mind.

Unbeknownst to Brock, Misty _had_ noticed Ash's poorly-hidden display of emotion. Her insides ached, this time for reasons other than Mother Nature's. Misty hated to see Ash sad, especially since he was usually the epitome of jolliness. Her first thought was that her weeklong attitude had gone too far, unintentionally hitting below the belt and genuinely hurting Ash. If that were the case, Misty had every intention of apologizing. Period or not, there was no excuse for Misty to take out her frustrations on her friends. Misty knew she was just jealous of the boys; they would _never_ have to go through these monthly woman issues: mood swings, inexplicable emotions…

Come to think of it, considering how weird and emotional Ash had been behaving this morning, the feminist in Misty could not help but wonder:

"Maybe guys undergo their own times of the month after all."

When it came to Ash Ketchum, nothing would surprise Misty anymore. Or so she thought.

**To Be Continued…**

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**A/N:** Sorry, boys. I couldn't help that last crack. ^^; (Or should I be apologizing to _Ash_ for everything that's happening in this story? Hehe.) More Ash-torment will be ahead in the next episode, I assure you.

I'm trying to maintain a weekly update schedule for this story, so if all goes well, Ch.3 will be posted next week. Hope to see you soon! Kindly drop a review before you leave, pretty please? :) I'd appreciate it.


	3. Chapter 3

**COPYRIGHT NOTE**: I don't own _Pokemon / Pocket Monsters_, _Candid Camera_, _X-Men_, or _Ripley's Believe It Or Not!_

**COMMENTS**: I caught a quick yet nasty cold over this last weekend, but I'm hoping that this chapter's revisions didn't suffer because of it. ^^; I feel better now, though my throat's still a bit scratchy. Tis the autumn season, I suppose.

Nevertheless, I must admit that I loved writing Ash and Brock's scene in this chapter. Of course, I'm sure readers can guess where this chapter will be going, so I'll shut up and let you get to it. ;) Viola!

Oh, and a friendly FYI: If you've read chapters 1+2 of this fanfic, then the content of this chapter should not surprise you. Nevertheless, please be aware that this chapter discusses some private "girl stuff." Nothing explicit, I assure you. I'm not trying to impose an anatomy lesson here; I'm just trying to entertain.

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**The Buzzards and the Bees**

_Aiselne Phoenix_

**Chapter 3**

"Okay, Ash. Really now, what's up with you today?"

Brock found an isolated grove of trees where he and Ash could talk privately. To their fortune, the trees also shaded the boys from the forest's relentless sun, simmering the humidity by a few precious degrees. It was the perfect setting to calmly discuss whatever was bothering Ash. With grumpy Misty momentarily out of the picture, Brock figured Ash would feel more comfortable.

Ash expected to feel more liberated from Misty's glare, too. But to both his and Brock's dismay, the girl's absence had the opposite effect on Ash. The realization hit him like a freight train. Misty was gone. _Gone_. No! Ash did not want that! He could not afford to waste any time away from her. Any second could be Misty's last! Who knew if Misty would still be there when he and Brock returned to camp? What if…what if…?

A gentle hand rested on Ash's trembling shoulder. "Ash? Hey come' on, you know you can talk to me. Right?"

Of course. Man-to-man, Ash had told Brock many personal things over their journey…or, things that Ash had considered "personal" (like how he knew his track record was nowhere near as good as Gary Oak's. Granted, Brock [and everyone else for that matter] had already known the truth, but he acknowledged that it was not an easy thing for Ash Ketchum to verbally admit his shortcomings). But now, Ash's eyes were opened to truly serious matters. Never before had Ash been the bearer of such bad news.

And worse, Ash had no idea how Brock would react. Everyone handled grief uniquely, and Brock had every right to mourn Misty. But right now… if Brock broke down, Ash would readily comfort him, but then there would be nobody to comfort _Ash_. The boy cursed his selfishness. Now was not the time to worry about himself. And yet, all Ash wanted was for somebody to ease this crushing pain; to hold him and rub his back as he wept, just as Delia did on the day they learned Mr. Ketchum would never be coming home.

The hand on Ash's shoulder had slowly begun to turn the trainer around to face Brock. Ash never noticed that he looked away in the first place. His eyes were glued to the watery image of his sneakers. Though Brock's voice was riddled with confusion, he still continued to speak the tenderest words of encouragement. The breeder needed to know what was wrong. Brock deserved to know, and Ash would not – could not – hold back any longer.

It took every ounce of self-control and will power for Ash to raise his head, look into Brock's eyes, and croak, "Misty's…d-dying, Brock."

An eon of silence passed between the young men. Time itself stopped, freezing the boys in place. Brock barely breathed and blinked, and the very tears in Ash's eyes dared not to fall, as if the slightest moment from either guy might shatter their entire world. How was anyone supposed to react to such an unexpected, earth-crushing revelation?

Over the years, Ash had said many things that knocked Brock for a loop. Most of those things were utterly stupid, by the way. But today was different. To say that Ash's confession left Brock stunned was a massive understatement. Words alone could not describe what he felt when he heard Ash say the impossible.

Misty was dying? Misty?! As in _their_ Misty?! Red hair, blue eyes and all?! _Dying_?! As in _dying_ dying?! Six feet under and all?! As a whirlwind of questions stormed through Brock's brain, the only semi-coherent words he could stammer were, "Wha-wait…w-_what_?"

His reaction was not a surprise. What _was_ a surprise (to Brock) was when Ash's head drooped again, leaning forward right into his taller friend's green vest. Immediately thereafter, the child's body shook feverishly as sobs began pouring out. It hurt so much; too much. As imperative as it was for Ash to tell Brock the truth, Ash really wanted to talk to Misty; to beg her not to die, even if it was out of anyone's control.

_Please don't leave me, Misty._

Brock was on the verge of a breakdown himself, but for reasons very different from Ash's. The teenager felt as though he was losing his mind! Today's events had been ridiculous: both Ash and Misty behaving weirdly, and now, of all things, Ash claimed that Misty was dying! Had the world gone insane during the past hour?! Perhaps Brock's fears were correct all long; the humid forest's extreme temperatures had finally damaged the kids' brains. What other explanation could there possibly be?

His hands changed from massaging to holding Ash's shoulders, attempting to have some handle on this asinine situation. "Uh…uuh, Ash?" Brock attempted to say, his tongue still tied and his thoughts dizzy. Ash's heartbroken claim of Misty's impending doom continuously repeated in Brock's head like a broken record. It was maddening, so crazy that Brock might have laughed if his best friend had not been crying into his chest. Brock wanted to be sympathetic, but he was too overwhelmed by the day's absurdity. "Ash…whu-what the hell do you mean, 'Misty's dying'?!"

Ash meant exactly what he said. It was hurtful enough for him to proclaim Misty's death once; the boy could not do it again. As he continued to dampen Brock's T-shirt, Ash's thin arms coiled around Brock's torso like a drowning man holding on for dear life. Sniffling, the younger one garbled, "I-I'm so ssorry, Bro-ck."

It was not the answer Brock needed. As the seconds past, the faster Brock's mind spun. Ash was nearly hysterical and making zero sense. And this affair about Misty dying… _What. The. Hell?!_ The breeder stared at his best friend as though Ash had suddenly grown a second head, or had landed from the Planet Clef, or had confessed his big secret of being the alter ego of the Zubatman superhero.

Brock's brain reiterated: _What the hell?!_

It had to be a joke, albeit a grossly unfunny one. But what other explanation was there? Patting Ash's back, Brock smirked his lack of amusement. "Okay. Ha ha, Ash," droned Brock, expecting the younger boy to cut his act and burst into giggles at any moment. "What is this, _Candid Camera_?"

Yeah, that was all Brock needed: a video recording of him alone in the forest, holding another guy (younger to boot). Then no girl would date him (not that girls lined up to date Brock in the first place). Or worse: for Team Rocket to bounce out of the bushes and see this potentially compromising scene. "Prepare for trouble on this hot and steamy day!" and, "Make it double; I didn't know the twerps swung that way!" Brock was not heartless enough to deny comfort from his best friend, but… Frankly, Brock still did not quite fathom why Ash was crying in the first place. Misty was not _really_ dying…right? It _had_ to be a prank.

"I-I'm not joking, B-Brock."

Alas, the longer it took for Ash to crack his joke, the deeper Brock's heart sank to his stomach. Brock had enough experience with kids to know when they were pulling his leg. And though Ash's claim sounded like sheer nonsense, Brock could not ignore the heartbroken honesty in Ash's wobbly voice. Ash certainly did not sound like he was fooling around, which meant that either the boy was becoming a superb actor, or…

But there was no logical reason for why Misty would be ill, never mind dying! She was a healthy, athletic girl, impressively strong for a person of her young age and thin stature. Besides, Brock kept a close eye on his friends and he had not seen anything odd in Misty's health lately. Sure, she had been more agitated than usual, but her fiery personality happened to be one of Misty's attributes, alongside being one of her vices.

So therein laid the question: where the hell did Ash get the idea that Misty was dying?!

"Ash…" Brock began, softening his voice in an effort to calm down the boy. Ash would not get this upset over a stupid prank. He truly believed that Misty was dying! But why? For a moment, Brock wondered if the joke was reversed: that Misty somehow convinced Ash that she was dying, just to fool the kid. It was true that Ash and Misty enjoyed teasing each other, but Brock also knew where their bickerers drew the line. Misty was temperamental, but she was not cruel. There had to be another reason for Ash's fears. "Ash, Misty is perfectly healthy. Where did you get the idea that she's dying?"

Did Ash really have to explain himself? Here he was in tears and Brock was more interested in asking twenty questions. Brock had every right to ask, but Ash was not keen on retelling the tale of how he unearthed the near-end of Misty's life.

Realizing that they were in for a long conversation, Brock guided his youngest friend to a nearby rock, large and flat enough for the two boys to sit down. This was not the first time that Brock endured similar-looking chats with his younger brothers and sisters. Maybe he was a softie, but Brock could never stomach watching his little siblings rub their pink eyes and hiccup sobs. Ash had the same effect on him.

Using the methods he learned whilst raising ten kids under the age of ten, Brock returned his palm to Ash's shoulder. "Take a few deep breaths, okay? I think you should start from the beginning and tell me what's going on."

Everything that Brock said and asked made perfect sense. Sure, Misty looked healthy to the uneducated eye. She hid her condition too well under a guise of grumpiness. Ash knew that it would take some serious convincing to prove his argument. Plain as day, Brock did not believe Ash's claim. Frankly, Ash still could not – or did not want to – believe that Misty was dying. But the truth always hurt, and Ash was hurting like hell.

It took a few more minutes for Ash to calm himself down enough to talk cognitively. Technically, this was his first true chance to mourn Misty all morning. Once the tears started they were nearly impossible to stop, but the boy persevered. Ash had to remember that he was not the only person who would be devastated by Misty's passing. As much as he wanted Brock to just shut up and hug him, Ash's conscience could not remain selfish.

Taking the breeder's advice, Ash inhaled and exhaled meditatively, doing the trick of calming the kid's nerves and evaporating some tears. His face felt like it was on fire, and Ash could only imagine what a wreck he looked like from Brock's viewpoint. After wiping his eyes and nose, the young trainer cleared his clogged throat. Discussing this morning's laundry discovery would not be easy for Ash, but he knew he owed it to Brock. It was now or never, and never was not an option.

"Well, y'see…t-this morning while I was c-leaning the laun-dry…" Ash had to pause, hardly believing the sound of his own voice: horrendous, throaty and nasally all at once. The last time Ash's voice sounded so bad was when he caught a nasty flu bug. If Ash were sick-like before Misty died, what state would his health be in when she _did_ die? But he could not afford to think about death, else Ash would never get through his explanation. He had to stay strong!

And so Ash tried talking again, this time more slowly to pace himself. The last thing he needed was to ramble. Fortunately, Brock was marvelously patient, offering gentle smiles and silent nods to encourage Ash along. "Well, as I was cleaning, I n-noticed…noticed…" He stumbled over the words like he tripped over his clumsy feet. How Ash managed to say the next words, he would never know. "I noticed M-Misty's…underwear." So upset over the prospect of Misty dying, Ash forgot to be embarrassed.

Brock on the other hand… "Her _underwear_?" And Ash caught the sliver of amusement on the teen's voice. Immediately, the teenage boy's sympathetic face morphed into mischief, an eyebrow arched and the corner of his mouth smirking naughtily.

_Girls' underwear?_ Brock wondered. _When had Ash reached THAT stage?_ Yes, Brock had seen Misty's underpants when he cleaned laundry. Personally, he was more interested in ladies' lingerie, not preteen panties with cartoon designs printed on them. The undergarments of adult women were much more sophisticated; fancier, lacier, shapelier, sexier, and many were see-through, too. Naturally, Big Brother Brock believed it was his duty to pass on his knowledge of women (or lack thereof) to the pubescent generation. Ah, the things Brock could teach to his protégé! The happy times those boys would share whilst perusing Brock's super-secret stash of not-so-innocent magazines. Oh how women were a true art form! Brock's other religion! True, cleanliness was next to godliness, but dirtiness also had its benefits.

Even Ash knew what Brock was thinking about. Although, the younger boy could not fathom how Brock could think about sex at a time like this! Misty was dying for God's sake!

"Sooo…" Brock began in a lewd, sing-songy voice that made Ash's stomach churn. Narrowing his already squinty eyes, the spiky-haired teen chuckled. "How long has this been going on, Ash? Heh, I shoulda' known there was a reason why you prolonged your 'washing the laundry.'" Brock's hands framed the last three words with animated quotation fingers.

Ash flushed, not liking what Brock insinuated. In the back of the boy's mind, he was starting to realize why Brock enjoyed cleaning so much – _too_ much.

Not wanting to overanalyze Brock's tangent, Ash shook his head before returning to the matter at hand. In a way, he appreciated the random change in subject. As disturbing as the subject may have been, anything was better than thinking about Misty's demise. Nevertheless, no matter how many times he and Brock got off topic, Misty's end was still nigh.

Evicting the unwanted images from his mind, Ash began the task of bringing Brock back down to earth. "Brock, you're missing the point." Of course, Ash realized that he was equally at fault for not making the point in the first place. If he was not such a chicken he would have made Misty's case clear from the get-go.

With the teenager's mind fixated on other things, Ash knew he needed to cut to the chase before he lost Brock completely. But therein was the problem. Ash could feel his insides squirm and his melancholy begin to bubble all over again. Now came the part he dreaded most. Ash wondered if this pain was identical to that of victims who explained their sides of the story to the police: retelling and reliving gruesome details. The laundry incident was mild compared to a murder scene, sure, but the blood still haunted Ash's brain.

"The thing is…Misty's underwear was…" Ash paused, irked by Brock's enhanced amusement at just the word "underwear." The older boy was obviously very suspicious about Ash's intentions with Misty's undergarments. True, Ash had been fooling around with the panties beforehand (not that he would _ever_ tell Brock), but everything changed when Ash got his rude awakening. Little did Brock know that he was about to get the same wake-up call.

With as much strength as he could muster, Ash forced himself to tell the hurtful truth. "Misty's underwear w-was…" Against his will, Ash's voice snagged in his throat before be nearly bawled the rest, "Oh G-God, Brock…Misty's underwear had b-blood in it!"

Those pervy fantasies of Brock's stopped in the blink of an eye. Well, actually, the "blink of an eye" was a metaphor, because Brock's body froze all over again, even his eyes. His face became stuck between suggestive bliss and unparalleled shock. As reality gradually sank in, Brock's features became unreadable. Ash could no longer decipher what his friend was thinking about, making the moment ten times more uncomfortable. Brock just stood there, stunned, and Ash was too skittish to make a peep.

_Blood_. Yet another word that replayed in Brock's head like a broken record. It was amazing how a one-syllable word could be so powerful. Blood itself was even more precious, something that could represent life as masterfully as it represented death.

Brock did not consider himself squeamish around blood. Back home (and on the road), he treated plenty of bleeding boo-boos, human and Pokemon alike. Being older than his friends, Brock had seen a larger library of violent and scary movies with their share of gore. This did not mean that Brock was a "fan" of bloodshed, but he prided his tolerance level.

So when Ash said that he had found blood in Misty's underwear, Brock did not feel queasy. In fact, he did not feel overly surprised. Misty was of age. He nearly smacked his forehead. _Of course!_ As realization dawned on him, Brock's brain-gears clicked into place. He felt enlightened as everything became clear: why Misty had acted so crabby lately, why Ash thought she was dying…

Wait…_dying_?! Brock finally blinked, returning his attention to the smaller boy sitting beside him. Tears began to refill Ash's brown eyes. His small shaky hands gripped his knees in a feeble attempt to hold onto his composure. It was no secret why; Ash openly claimed that he believed Misty was dying. Was it because he found the blood on her panties? But that was just because Misty was having her period. What was happening to Misty was perfectly natural, not deadly. Unless…

_Shit. Ash doesn't know what a period is, does he?_

A warmhearted smile found Brock's lips as he rubbed Ash's back again. The poor kid was fighting a losing battle against his hiccupped whimpers. Ash truly believed something was horribly wrong with Misty, when in actuality the opposite was happening to her. The paternal side of Brock could not help but feel happy for Misty, but at the same time Brock's heart went out to the innocent Ash.

Brock would be lying if he claimed he was surprised that Ash did not know about periods. The kid was ten and he was a boy. Even Brock did not know much about "girl stuff" (_real_ girl stuff, not girl stuff as guys see it) until he was a little older than Ash. It was a stretch to expect Ash Ketchum to know about these things. Was it really any wonder why Ash thought Misty was dying? Putting himself in Ash's shoes, Brock might have jumped to the same conclusion.

_That must've been one hell of a scare for Ash_, Brock knew, reading the sorrow across the child's streaked cheeks. It was cruel for Ash to be tormented by this faultless misunderstanding. Of course, the only way to alleviate Ash's suffering was for Brock to explain Misty's situation. Having "the talk" was not on Brock's original itinerary for today.

"I think I know what's going on, Ash," Brock said in a soothing voice, coordinating his massage with Ash's breaths. First things first; he had to calm down Ash, else Brock's explanation would go on deaf ears. "And I can tell you that Misty is _not_ dying."

His watery eyes blinking, Ash stared at Brock as though the teen just spoke the unbelievable. Brock sounded so certain of himself, too. But Ash knew what he saw; there had been blood. What else could bloodshed mean? Was Brock in denial? Did Brock still not believe Ash's accusation? Blood plus panties – was Brock unable to put two and two together?!

"But Br-ock, did you n-not hear what I said?" Ash asked, feeling his panic and confusion begin to accelerate his heart rate. Brock looked like he understood, but he obviously did not. Misty was dying and Ash was seconds away from loosing whatever sanity he had left. Leaning closer, Ash's eyes widened in tear-filled terror. "There w-as blood in her underwear. _B-Blood_! That meanss… that it means she's bleeding from the insside and but she must be sick or getting worse we gotta' d-do somethin–"

Ash was almost incoherent as his hysterical ramblings trailed into full-fledged sobs. Brock had never seen him so scared in his life, not even when faced with some of their journey's most dangerous adventures. For his age, Ash was very brave, but today was different. Ash could face frightening Pokemon, citywide disasters, and near-death experiences. But when it came to the possibility of losing a best friend… even a brave person like Ash had his limits.

Friendship was a double-edged sword for Ash Ketchum: the presence of his friends made Ash stronger, but the absence of his friends made Ash weaker. He could never control his emotions when the time came to part ways with one of his beloved Pokemon. Ash obviously felt the same way towards his human friends. He was the type of person who thrived off the company and closeness of others. Losing a friend was no different than losing a piece of himself.

No longer caring if Team Rocket or anyone saw, Brock's arm drew Ash's head onto his strong shoulder. Before realizing it, Ash had gotten exactly what he wanted: a shoulder to cry on. As Brock listened to his little brother-like friend weep, the teenager's heart ached and his conscience nagged him incessantly. It was crucial that Brock clarified this grave misunderstanding. Ash was killing himself.

"Ash, you know I wouldn't lie to you, right?" It was a rhetorical question to break the ice. Brock did not expect Ash to verbally reply, though he appreciated the kid's slight nod. Using that as his cue, Brock proceeded to pat Ash's scruffy hair. "Then you know you can trust me when I say that Misty's not going to die anytime soon."

Brock's experiences made him a master at handling kids. He knew just how to speak, flawlessly wording himself so that his sentences reinforced knowledge that Ash already _knew_ deep down. Some type of reverse psychology, maybe? Yes, Ash _knew_ he could trust Brock. Yes, he _knew_ he trusted Brock's words. But seeing was believing, too. Ash _knew_ he saw blood stain Misty's underwear. As much as Ash trusted Brock, Brock had not been present during the laundry fiasco. Brock had not seen, so how could he be 100% certain? But then why would Brock lie to Ash?

Ash did not know what to think anymore, torn between Brock's logic and Misty's traumatic panties. At the moment, all Ash wanted to do was sob out the rest of his grief, but that would accomplish nothing. He had to pull himself together. What if Brock spoke the _truth_? What if Misty was fine? Then Ash would have made an ass of himself all morning. He did not want to be labeled as a _total_ crybaby. But considering the circumstances, Ash would happily accept any rude nickname if it meant that Misty would be A-okay.

In reality, Ash wanted to believe Brock. Oh how every fiber in Ash's body pleaded with the gods. If Brock was correct, then Misty was _fine_. Safe. Alive! She would not be leaving Ash for a long, long time. Brock was not cruel; he would not say Misty was all right if her health was otherwise. And Brock sounded so damn sure of himself. More than anything, Ash wanted to be proven wrong.

Still… Ash could not shake the image of blood. Misty's blood. Even if Misty was not dying, per se, her blood loss was of no comfort to Ash. After a soggy sniffle, Ash lifted his head from Brock's shoulder, reading the truthful look on the older boy's face. Brock was, and would, tell the truth. "But then…w-what's wrong with her? Why's Misty bleeding f-from…" Ash's tear-reddened face camouflaged the blush illuminating his cheeks. The kid could not help but peer southward. "…D-down there?"

The raven-haired boy's shyness was adorable. Had the circumstances been lighter, Brock would have teased Ash mercilessly. But of course, now was not the time for jokes. Smiling understandingly, Brock maintained his honest disposition. He could tell that Ash was slowly abandoning his "Misty's dying!" paranoia. Brock was finally getting through to the boy, no small feat against a head as stubborn and thick as Ash Ketchum's. Now was not the time for Brock to mess around and have the kid's brain slingshot backwards.

"I'm sure this'll be hard to believe at first, but there's really nothing wrong with Misty, Ash," reassured Brock, literally feeling Ash's nerves unwind. However, Brock knew the inevitable was near. If he claimed that Misty's bleeding was nothing serious, then it stood to reason that Ash would ask the next question:

"Then, why _is_ she bleeding, Brock?"

_Oh boy_. The conversation was not getting any easier, that was for sure. Brock paused, unsure how to broach the next topic. The wise thing to do was to tell Ash the truth, but… _I think Ash has undergone one too many traumatic experiences today_. Alas, honesty was the best policy. Brock knew that Ash would not allow him to leave this issue unfinished. The younger kid was curious, albeit curiosity killed the cat. Ash was bound to find out sooner or later, right? Better for him to hear about this stuff from Brock than from other less reliable sources.

How the hell had this conversation's subjects gone from death to…_this_? Clearing his throat, Brock chose his words with a fine-toothed comb. "Well, the thing is, Ash…" he trailed, riding by the seat of his pants. Even Brock stumbled when it came to this stuff. Brock loved to think about girls, but not necessarily "girl stuff." He just hoped to God that his explanation would not fly over Ash's dense head. "When girls reach Misty's age, you know, their bodies begin to change…k-kinda' like when Pokemon evolve." Ash always understood Pokemon illustrations.

Ash blinked. "So…Misty's evolving?" All he could envision was Misty's body glowing white, metamorphosing into one of the human-mutant X-Men or something. For the first time all morning, Ash's tears were replaced with childish glee. "Cool!"

Brock sweatdropped whilst reading the boy's mind like a book. Okay, maybe Pokemon illustrations were not the best educational tools. Ash took things too literally, which probably explained how he got into this mess in the first place. It was back to the drawing board for Professor Brock.

"Nuh-no, Ash," corrected Brock, stopping Ash's thought process before the kid began to envision Misty with extra arms or supernatural abilities. If only superpowers _were_ the fruits borne of adolescence. "Not _exactly_ like Pokemon evolution, just…a 'little' like evolution. What I mean is that girls' bodies change as they slowly become adults. It's part of growing up."

Ash seemed to better understand. At least he no longer looked like he was reading a comic book. He knew about "growing up," or at least the gist of it. "But how come she's bleeding so much? Does growing up hurt that much?"

"A little, yeah," although Brock could not speak with complete certainty. Also being a guy, there was only so much that Brock could understand about girl things, himself. And Brock was not about to turn suicidal and ask Misty, "Hey there! How's your period feeling today?" Misty was a firecracker on her good days, never mind during her time of the month.

But Brock was certain about one thing; adolescence was an awkward time for both girls and boys. "But that's what happens when people mature, Ash. Our bodies don't change as quickly and drastically as a Pokemon's does when it evolves. Still, that doesn't mean growing up is any easier for us. You've heard of 'growing pains,' right?"

"Sure…" Little by little, Ash felt like he understood the situation. As of age ten, Ash had not undergone too many growing pains of his own, but he knew he was due in the next few years. He was not exactly looking forward to it, especially if Misty's condition was any indication of what Ash would have to endure. The boy suddenly became very uncomfortable in his seat. "So, uh…_everybody_ goes through it?"

"If you're asking about general growing pains, then I'm afraid everybody's gotta' deal with them sooner or later, kiddo." Brock had to keep himself from chuckling at the mental image of Ash Ketchum undergoing adolescence's quirks. It was fun to imagine Ash becoming taller than Misty, or the boy's voice deepening, and hell, just imagining Ash with raging hormones was hilarious! Ah, the things Brock could teach!

Mark his words; Ash was not in any hurry to grow up…especially if it meant finding the toilet bowl red after doing his morning business. Ash got queasy just thinking about it. If he _had_ to go through it as part of growing up, well, then he would take it like a man. That did not mean Ash had to enjoy himself, of course.

"But if you're asking about Misty's, um, bleeding…that's something only girls get." Brock swore that he could see an actual wave of relief wash over Ash's face. Perhaps it was mean, but even Brock felt exonerated. Just because he knew about periods did not mean Brock was eager to have one himself. The blood, the cramps, the mood swings, not to mention all the other weird symptoms…how the hell can women stand it every month? "They call it a girl's 'period,' or their 'time of the month.' You might've heard those terms before, Ash," though Brock was not going to bet any money on that assumption. "There are other names for it, too, but why don't we just use 'period' for now." Only briefly did Brock consider using the technical term for period, but he feared that Ash would only get more confused, if not worried, by "men" in "menstrual cycle." Best to stick with the basics.

Ash blinked in silent acknowledgement. He sifted through his memory to recall ever hearing about a period, but all he knew was the punctuation. Apparently there were other uses for the word (though Ash did not have the foggiest idea as to how a "period" could be both a dot and a girl's bleeding. Where do some of these words come from, anyway?).

Whatever the case, it certainly was a relief for Ash to know that periods were _girl_ issues. But before he could celebrate the wonderment of being a boy, Ash's thoughts went back to Misty. He felt bad for her…and for all girls, really. Nobody could help how he or she was born.

"But why only girls?" Ash wondered, feeling sorry for poor Misty.

Brock scratched the back of his neck, finding his next words. This was the moment he dreaded, more so than the rest of this morning's disturbing discussions. But Ash obviously wanted to know, and Brock was not about to start lying now. "Well…" he started, hesitant as to how Ash might react when he heard the news. "It's so girls can have babies, Ash."

Predicting Ash's mindset, Brock expected the boy to immediately scream, "Eeeeew!" Instead, the kid sat perfectly still, computing the information in his already overloaded head. It was anyone's guess as to how Ash would react to the word "babies," although Brock was prepared for anything…

"So…Misty's having a baby, Brock?"

…Except that.

After face-palming, Brock chuckled in exasperation over Ash's unparalleled innocence, or idiocy. "No, Ash. Misty's not having a baby. And if you want to live to see your next birthday, I highly advise you to never, ever say the word 'pregnant' around a woman unless she _is_ pregnant. Otherwise, you'll get lynched for suggesting she's fat." Though how a girl as twig-skinny as Misty could be self-conscious about her weight was another mystery of womandom. "What I mean is that girls have periods so they can have babies _in the future_." He wanted to add that a period was sort of the polar opposite of pregnancy; it was when a girl did _not_ have her period that babies become possibilities. But then Ash was bound to ask, "Why does the period stop? Then what happens inside a girl? Et cetera," and Brock was reaching his own limits.

It made sense…sort of. Ash would have been very surprised if Misty had a baby at her young age. Ketchum family members often said that Delia was young when she had Ash, and Delia was in her late teens. If eighteen was "young" to have a baby, Ash figured that Misty was "way too young" to become a mother. Granted, Misty was already a surrogate mama to Togepi, but even Ash knew the difference between Pokemon babies and human babies. Mostly.

"But, why blood, Brock?" Ash still wondered. He was no expert about babies, but based on what Delia told him Ash knew that giving birth was a painful process. It made sense if women bled during delivery. But what about before the delivery? Did pregnant women bleed because the baby took up so much room in their tummies, kicking around and breaking all sorts of things inside? Maybe.

Who knows? Ash was more worried about Misty. "If Misty's not pregnant, then why's she bleeding already? Does it take a really long time for girls to have babies? Is she getting a head start?" Ash could have sworn that nine months was the typical time span for a baby to become ready for birth, but it never hurt to plan ahead.

Brock was beginning to get a headache, although he wondered why only _now_ his head was starting to throb. The teenager could not blame Ash's naivety, but damn, the kid's questions were starting to become exhausting. "Well, uh…actually, I don't think you're entirely off the mark, Ash. I mean, yeah, I suppose it takes a while for a girl's body to become able to have babies. It doesn't take as long to actually have a baby, but I'm sure it takes time for a woman's body to prepare." He was guessing now. There was only so much that Brock knew, too. Furthermore, there was only so much that Brock could explain in a language that Ash could understand. "Like I said, Misty's not having a baby now, but her body's prepping itself so she can in the future."

As best as possible, Ash thought he understood. "And the blood?" Brock was still beating around the bush on that subject.

Brock's cheeks reddened discreetly. Rubbing his chin, the older boy pondered. "How do I explain this?" Or, _How do I explain it without completely ruining Ash's innocence?_ "Let's just say that the blood is, uh, a side effect. It's not because she's injured or anything. It just happens because…because Misty's changing on the inside, and well, er, blood comes from the inside, after all." He prayed that Ash would be satisfied.

It took a few minutes, but Ash was beginning get the gist. He did not understand everything, but frankly, the boy was not eager to learn every gritty detail. As long as Misty's bleeding was not deadly, Ash was content. Hell, he was more than just content.

"So her bleeding isn't serious?" Ash wanted to make sure, looking Brock straight in the eye. "She's not bleeding anywhere else, is she? What if she loses too much blood?"

Smiling tenderly, Brock patted the boy's head like a pet. "Answer to question #1: It looks worse than it really is, Ash. Trust me, girls don't lose that much blood. Billions of women have gone through it and lived to tell the tale. Not to say people haven't died from internal bleeding before, but that's _completely_ separate from a woman's time of the month.

"And answer #2: To my knowledge, no, periods don't bleed from anywhere else… although I'd imagine girls could think of more convenient places for it to happen." Bleeding was never fun, period (no pun intended). But seriously; of all places?! He hated to sound sexist, but Brock figured that women would not bitch so much about their periods if they just got nosebleeds. But then he tried to imagine a baby being born from a nostril…it sounded like a freak show straight out of _Ripley's Believe It Or Not!_ Perhaps there _was_ a method behind Mother Nature's madness.

Brock was not the only boy pondering vague blueprints of the female anatomy. "It must hurt, ya know, coming from…down there." Ash could not restrain his blush, but he was speaking his mind. He never liked to see his friends hurt, no matter the circumstances. "Why's it gotta' be there?"

Deciding not to bring up his ludicrous "baby-born-from-nostril" idea, Brock burst out in a chuckle before giving Ash a matter-of-factly expression. "Oh, come' on, Ash. Think about it. Girls get periods so they can have babies one day. And you know 'where' babies come from, right?" _PLEEEEASE say yes, Ash!_ Brock had already explained more than enough for one day. Not that Brock _disliked_ talking about sex…

Thank God, Brock's prayer was answered the moment Ash dipped his head in embarrassment. Ash remembered the day his trainer's prep class talked about "when a man and a woman fall in love." _Oh brother!_

It was one of the most random days in Ash's life (and Ash had plenty of those). All of the boys filed into in one classroom, the girls in another. Professor Oak taught Gary's group, which also happened to be Ash's class. There Ash was, nine years old, bouncing in his seat, and super-psyched for another day to learn about the wonderful world of Pokemon. After all, it was the Pokemon trainer's prep seminar…what _else_ would the teachers talk about? But then Professor Oak pulled down a white screen and turned on the overhead projector. The lights went out and flashed before the boys' eyes were _not_ slides of cool-looking Pokemon. For the next hour those kids' eyes only got bigger and bigger. Even Gary could not believe what he was hearing from his own grandfather! In _public_! He would have been blackmailed big time if all the other boys, Ash included, were not so horrifically disturbed, near vomiting by the birds and the bees.

And to put the cherry on top, when Ash returned home that afternoon Delia greeted him with a stack of child-recommended picture books to further illustrate Professor Oak's lecture. Apparently, parents had already been informed about the day's sex-ed class. Delia wanted Ash to know that she was more than happy to answer any of his questions. As if the day had not been embarrassing enough!

So, yes, Ash knew about sex, and he was not about to talk about it with Brock. It was one thing to talk to grown-ups about grown-up things. Brock was older, but not quite a grown-up just yet. Besides, Ash knew better than to open Pandora's Box. Once Brock started talking about sex he rarely stopped. Ash's brain was already on overload today.

Both boys were more than happy when Ash obligingly raised his hand. "Y-yeah. I'm good, Brock. Thanks."

Silence ensued as Ash and Brock absorbed this morning's awkwardness. Only now did Ash realize how foolish he had been: jumping to such extreme conclusions about Misty's underwear. But how could he have known about periods? Ash may not have been the brightest of people, but surely there were limits to how much a ten-year-old could know, too. He was a _boy_! Why would a guy need to know personal details about girls?

"Um, Brock? How come you know about this stuff, anyway?" Half of Ash was unsure if he really wanted to know. Brock _did_ say that only girls had periods, right?

Running a hand through his spiky hair, Brock shrugged indifferently as though the answer was more than obvious. "I had to raise ten younger siblings, Ash. Half of em' are girls. None of them are Misty's age yet, but I've still gotta' be prepared." Based on the books he read, Brock knew that some girls started earlier than others. The tricky thing about growing up was that everybody matured differently. Shortly before joining Ash and Misty's journey, Brock gave his eldest younger sister the "growing up heads-up." He also made sure that Flint knew what he was getting into after his father-hiatus. "If my dad never came back, I'd be the first person my sisters would run to if they woke up one morning and thought they were bleeding to death."

Brock did not intend to inadvertently poke fun at Ash's earlier reaction. Nevertheless, in retrospect Ash realized how outrageously paranoid he behaved. He could laugh about it in the future, but for now Ash sobered. All of his anxieties and grief melted away. Misty was not dying. She was perfectly healthy. For once in his life, Ash was thrilled to be proven wrong. No goodbyes were in order; no funerals, no boohoos. Misty was not going anywhere anytime soon. It was a heaven-sent miracle.

_Thank you. Thank you! THANK YOU!_

As Ash mentally thanked every omnipotent entity that he could think of, he then realized who deserved the most gratitude. If it were not for Brock, Ash would have probably buried Misty by now. Overjoyed was an understatement to describe Ash. He was bursting with exuberance, so much that he nearly toppled over Brock in an enormous hug. The teenager coughed before smiling and understandingly patting the boy's back. None of the kids wanted to lose each other, after all.

Near-death experiences always make people more appreciative of what they have.

**To Be Continued in the Epilogue…**

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**A/N**: Chapter 4 is an epilogue to wrap-up the loose ends. This fic was originally meant to be three chapters, but I really liked where this episode ended. :) So I hope to see everyone next week for this miniseries' grand finale! Reviews help to psyche me up!


	4. Epilogue

**COPYRIGHT NOTE**: I don't own _Pokemon / Pocket Monsters_. If I did, Ash would be more of a mess than he already is, wouldn't he? ;)

**COMMENTS**: Welcome to the grand finale of my miniseries! It's been a fun little ride (or I hope it has been, of course ^^). As mentioned in Ch.3's ending A/N, Ch.4 is a shorter epilogue just to tie this fic's loose ends. And I did promise a little Pokeshippy, didn't I? Well, here you go! :)

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**The Buzzards and the Bees**

_Aiselne Phoenix_

**Epilogue**

That afternoon, Ash returned to the riverbank to finally finish washing the group's laundry. He did promise, after all, and Ash Ketchum always kept his promises. Plus, after this morning's enlightening chat with Brock, Ash felt rejuvenated. He and Brock returned to camp shortly after noontime. Ash's appetite returned full-throttle for lunch (especially since he never finished his breakfast). The boy was animated as ever, making up for lost time. Pikachu was so happy for his dear Pikapi.

Speaking of Pikachu, Ash made sure to tell the mouse that Misty was okay. Pikachu had been present during the panty incident and deserved clarification. Unfortunately, Ash was not sure he could explain the details to Pikachu as well as Brock explained them to Ash. But to the trainer's wide-eyed surprise, Pikachu had already learned the truth!

While Ash and Brock were gone, Pikachu had discussed the matter with the other Pokemon, specifically Misty's Pokemon. They already knew about the redhead's condition because this was not the first time she had her period! Apparently a period was called "time of the month" because it happened once a month…_every_ month. How long had Misty been getting these periods? Why had she not told Ash and Brock when she first started?

_Probably because Misty figured she might freak us out or something._ Ash sweatdropped.

It was none of Ash's business. The kid knew he had already infringed enough on Misty's privacy. If Misty _ever_ found out about this…

"Jeez, Ash Ketchum, it doesn't take much for you to throw somebody in the grave, does it? I never knew you were such a hypochondriac."

Ash never had the chance to ask what a "high-poe-something" was before Misty made a surprise appearance next to him. The pair of jeans he was currently scrubbing had been dropped back into the water, and Ash fumbled to catch them before the pair drifted downstream. It was the perfect excuse for him not to make eye contact with Misty.

But when Ash reminded himself of what Misty just said, he could not help but spin around and shriek, "Wait, Brock told you?!" Oh sure, and everybody claimed that _Ash_ was a bigmouth! _Thanks, Brocko! Now I'll never live this down!_ His eyes wandered back to the water, and Ash felt like jumping in and swimming away for dear life. Who knew what Misty would do to him after today's escapades?

Instead, Misty slowly lowered herself onto the bank next to Ash. He was afraid to look at her. The boy's cheeks were on fire and his body tensed, ready for Misty's wrath. When Misty did _not_ smack him, Ash bravely stole a glance beside himself, watching the redhead out of the corner of his eye. The girl remained quiet and sifted through the laundry pile, pouring liquid soap onto a tank top and then scrubbing it in the water.

Not that Ash was complaining, but, _Um, why's she helping me instead of pounding me?_ There was one way to find out.

"Are you mad, Misty?" Ash could not believe how small his voice became whilst asking that timid question. He could not remember the last time he was so afraid of Misty. Her moods were too unpredictable, and man always feared what he did not understand.

After wringing out the water from her tank top, Misty began folding. Ash could tell that she was purposefully avoiding his eyes. "Am I mad at a person who snooped through my underwear? Yes." _Here it comes_. Ash braced himself, but Misty never struck. "Am I more mad at myself for mixing my laundry with two boys', thinking they'd be mature enough to handle it? You'd better believe it!"

Seizing a pair of dirty socks, Misty held them under the water as though she were attempting to drown them. Ash imagined himself swapping places with the socks. It was the lesser of two evils.

"And am I mad at some lamebrain because he somehow got into his head that I was going to kick the bucket?!" Misty exclaimed, her tone emphasizing the absurdity of the situation. Setting aside the socks, Misty rubbed her temples. "Argh! I swear to God, Ash, the one time you actually use your brain and _this_ is what comes of it!"

There had to be a rock Ash could crawl under. But before he could plan his escape, the kid jerked forward when he felt an arm thump itself against his back. The only reason Ash never fell face-forward into the stream was because Misty's arm held him in a half-hug.

"No. I'm not mad, Ash."

It took a few seconds for Ash to realize he was not about to be pulverized. In true Misty fashion, the girl ran hot and cold; one minute a threatening storm and the next merry sunshine. She felt so warm and soft, encompassing Ash like the world's best security blanket. As her other arm completed the embrace, Ash returned the gesture. Whatever happened today, he was just eternally thankful that Misty was still by his side. Nothing else mattered.

"You honestly thought I was going to die, Ash?" Obviously, Brock had told Misty everything, including Ash's embarrassing breakdown. But the girl's voice was not sarcastic whatsoever. Her sweet voice was full of comfort and pity for Ash's innocent misunderstanding.

Sheepishly, Ash dipped his head into Misty's elbow. Against the laws of physics, his blush reddened more brightly than it already had been. Yes, he had been stupid, and his best defense for it was, "…I didn't know. Sorry."

But instead of rightfully calling Ash an idiot, Misty just giggled and squeezed him. Not only did this moment feel great for Ash, but it was also the best Misty felt all week. She treated Ash and Brock like crap lately. This mess never would have happened if Misty had been upfront with her friends in the first place. Ash's misunderstanding was karma's way of getting back at Misty.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Ash," Misty reassured, encouraging the boy to look into her honest eyes. It was impossible for Misty to be mad at Ash when he honestly did not understand what was happening to her. Brock relayed the details of the boys' talk, and the redhead nearly cried when she heard how devastated Ash behaved when he thought she might die. Although Misty and Ash enjoyed tormenting each other, Misty never wanted Ash to get that upset. "You're right; you didn't know, and I never told you. Plus, I should be the one apologizing for acting so bitchy this week. This stuff just puts us girls in a foul mood, that's all."

Ash took no offense anymore. In Misty's shoes, Ash doubted that he would act hunky-dory if he peed blood.

"So…you're okay?" Ash hesitantly asked, briefly scanning his eyes up and down Misty. He did not expect or want to see any outer signs of Misty's state, but he needed to be sure.

"I'm not dying, if that's what you're asking," Misty winked, smiling as Ash's face brightened in relief. It was one thing for Brock to say that Misty was fine, but it was even better for Misty to say it herself. "Really, Ash, did you think I'd die before becoming Water Pokemon Master?"

For the first time all day, Ash laughed heartily.

"Besides, I can't die before you pay me back for my bike. You're not getting off the hook that easily, Ash Ketchum."

Ash was so happy; he would buy twenty bikes for Misty if he could.

"And I can't die before we– uh…"

Noticing the pause, Ash blinked and cocked his head curiously. "Before we what, Myst?"

It was Misty's turn to blush, her face becoming almost as red as her hair. She and Ash were still in each other's arms, and it did not feel awkward until now. Loosening the hug apart, Misty passively waved her hands. "Forget it, Ash. It's nothing." But if it was "nothing," why was Misty so flushed? Ash decided not to ask, knowing that he endured enough Q&A for one day.

The duo then proceeded to finish washing the laundry. Misty took the liberty of cleaning her own clothes. Ash did not protest. Splashes were the only sounds shared between the two kids until the laundry became a neat pile of wet articles. Ash was surprised when Misty said she pitched the campsite's clothesline before joining Ash at the riverbed. That would make the chore even easier.

After separating the laundry into one stack for each kid to carry, Ash and Misty gathered their belongings and headed back to camp. There were still plenty of hours left in the day, and Ash did not want to waste them on laundry. But for once in his life, Ash was not eager to spend the rest of his afternoon training. He loved to spend time with his Pokemon, of course, but today was special. Ash felt as though he was getting a second chance with Misty, and he wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon with her.

"Is there anything special you wanna' do after we get all the laundry on the line?" Ash asked, much to Misty's surprise. "We could go fishing or swimming."

Ash was being nice to Misty just as he acted this morning during breakfast. She liked the special treatment, but honestly, Misty did not want Ash to be nice to her only on special occasions. But of course, friendship was a two-way street. Misty was not always the nicest person to Ash, either. Apparently, both kids had some more growing up to do. Perhaps today could be the beginning of a new direction for their relationship.

"Fishing sounds fun. But to tell you the truth, Ash," Misty admitted, shrinking her pink face behind the pile of clothes she was carrying. She was embarrassed to admit this to a boy, but, "Swimming is the last thing I want to do today, what with my…period and all." It would take some time for Misty to become comfortable saying such words around her male friends. But it was comforting to be able to talk to _somebody_ about her growing pains. "Man! What sucky timing! Swimming would be _perfect_ on a humid day like this. But…I guess there's no stopping you from taking a dip. You could always invite Brock. The Pokemon would love it, too."

Sure, but what fun would Ash, Brock, and their Pokemon have if they left out Misty? Shaking his head, Ash passed up her offer. "Nah. It'd be no fun without you, Myst."

Words alone could not describe how flattered Misty felt. Ash Ketchum _could_ be a gentleman. "Thanks," she chuckled impishly. "But I hate being a party-pooper." It was not fair, but Misty knew she could not fight Mother Nature. Grumbling under her breath, Misty scoffed, "Menopause sounds pretty good right now."

"What about Metapods?" Ash chimed in.

After rolling her eyes, Misty coughed. "Never mind, Ash." And with that, Misty picked up her pace for the boy to follow. "Let's just get back and hang the laundry. I'm up for fishing afterwards. After all, I can't just mope around camp every time I get this."

Ash had to admit; girls impressed him. Back home, whenever he got sick Ash spent his whole day in bed. He hated it, yes, but he felt too crappy to do otherwise (that, and Delia insisted he get his rest. She would lock her son in his bedroom if necessary). But not Misty! She was not going to let a period slow her down. Where all women like that? Thinking back, Ash could not recall a certain time of the month when Delia was out of commission. Unless she was sick Delia was always fluttering around the house. Somehow, girls found a way to get on with their lives despite the discomfort. It fascinated Ash.

"You're really something else, Misty." The boy's compliment blurted out of his mouth before Ash even realized it. Both children blushed on cue. But now that the cat was out of the bag, Ash figured he might as well go along with it. Misty earned more compliments, anyway. Now was as good a time as any to give her what she deserved. "I-I mean, you know, you're not letting this thing stop you from having fun."

Misty did not think her perseverance was akin to walking on the moon, but she took a compliment when it came (especially if it came from Ash). She rewarded his kindness with a bright, appreciative smile.

"Thanks, Ash, but it's really not that big of a deal. I _have_ to be tough," she teased proudly, winking again in Ash's direction. "After all, I'm the youngest of three sisters, and I have to keep you and Brock in line." Inching closer, she extended her elbow just enough to playfully nudge Ash's arm without knocking over their laundry piles. Ash grinned, about to launch a counterattack when Misty struck home. "And besides, if I don't go through with all this growing up stuff, how else will we get to have babies someday?"

Ash laughed, nodding over-enthusiastically. "Yeah! You're right! Haha!"

Misty paused, narrowing her eyes and waiting for it to sink in. Then she hightailed it back to camp the moment she saw Ash's eyes bug out beyond belief. Red-faced and mouth agape, Ash's quivering hands dropped his pile of clothes onto the ground. So much for the clean laundry, but Ash had _much_ bigger concerns on his mind.

"Wait…whu-wha-_WHAT_?!"

**The End**

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**A/N**: *giggles* And there you have it, folks. Thank you very much for reading, and special thanks to my faithful reviewers for their impeccable feedback. _The Buzzards and the Bees_ marks my 10th Pokemon publication! *celebrates* It's been a pleasure and privilege to share my stories with the FFnet community. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me over these past few years. I love ya! :)

- Aiselne Phoenix Nocturnus


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